


veterans

by Kuroeia (Empatheia)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-09
Updated: 2009-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Kuroeia
Summary: They've survived, and for the moment, that's enough.
Relationships: Abarai Renji/Kurosaki Ichigo
Kudos: 1





	veterans

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic cross-posted from FFN. Requested by geofount on LiveJournal, drabble post 2009/09/28. 
> 
> Prompt: yankee

The morning after the end of a world, Kurosaki Ichigo wakes up and meets a stranger in the mirror.

"Oh, jeez," he says, squinting at himself first with one eye and then the other. "Look at this mess. Dad's gonna kill me on Mom's behalf."

His face is sunken and haggard. Though his body is in fair enough shape despite Kon's best efforts, his soul leaks through his skin and makes it look darker, full of shadows, hollow. There is a weary slump in his spine, all the weight of his bones and blood and muscle pulling him down into the ground.

Sweeping back from his ears, his hair drifts about the nape of his neck, longer than he's ever had it. It's frizzy from sleep.

"You look like hell," he tells his reflection.

"I concur," says Renji's voice from somewhere in his bedroom. "I've had nothing else to stare at all night. Wish they'd assigned me to Inoue instead, she's easier on the eyes on her worst days than you are on your best."

Ichigo shakes his head to clear the sleep from it and puts on a glare. "Fuck you, Renji. You'd look like shit too if you'd practically cut your damn soul in half to kill the most powerful shinigami who ever lived. 'Sides, I didn't have Hanatarou and the rest patching me up, like the rest of you spoiled pansies."

Completely ignoring this, Renji jumps up off the edge of his bed and stalks over to look him critically in the eye. Then he takes a fistful of orange hair and tugs, hard. A few strands come loose, orange to the root.

"Ow! What the shit, man!"

Renji grins and lets go. "So it _is_ real. I'll be damned. Thought for sure you were just a closet yankee or somethin'."

Ichigo glares at him. "It's my real hair, moron. I've told you that like eight times."

"Don't cut it. Long hair's better."

"Think you might be biased there, dude."

The smile unexpectedly fades from Renji's face, halting just before disappearing entirely to leave only a wistful upturned corner. It's a strange expression on him. He puts a hand on Ichigo's shoulder, his strong swordsman's fingers digging in just a little. "Sorry, kid. I'm teasin' ya because I'm glad you're alive. It was kinda touch-and-go there for a bit."

"Don't call me that," Ichigo snaps, but there's no bite to it. It's just a reflex.

He's glad Renji made it, too.

X

**Author's Note:**

> Work is intentionally this length, complete, and will not be updated.


End file.
